


good to see you're still beautiful

by foxgloved



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: F/F, Femslash February, Future Fic, Older Pacifica Northwest, Older Pines Twins, Post-Canon, Post-Weirdmageddon, mention of past carla/stan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-03
Updated: 2016-02-03
Packaged: 2018-05-18 02:04:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5893936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxgloved/pseuds/foxgloved
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Mabel, when she'd first seen Pacifica, had hated her in the first glance.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	good to see you're still beautiful

**Author's Note:**

> title is from train's 'bruises', i love my daughter pacifica northwest

Mabel, when she'd first seen Pacifica, had hated her in the first glance. Her lips, painted as though with a marker, her cheeks filled in and eyeliner dashing above her eyes. Her hair, so perfect and even, blonde and -- she was beautiful.

And maybe that was why Mabel disliked her. Because the most beautiful people were always the cruellest, right? Then Grenda and Candy whispered about how Pacifica Northwest was the most popular girl in town, and, well --

Mabel knew she was trouble. She hated her. Mabel never hated anyone, but Pacifica Northwest became the first person who Mabel could ever really hate.

  


*

  


And then, Gravity Falls happened. Gravity Falls already had happened, in a sense; it had been happening since Dipper and Mabel first stepped off the bus.

But -- Weirdmageddon.

( _They won, they won, they defeated Bill. They_ won _._ )

When they come home a mess from the destruction, their parents slam the door in their faces. Dipper is ready to leave, to march straight back to Gravity Falls no matter how long it takes. Mabel, on the other hand, wipes the dirt from her face with her oversized sweater sleeve and drops down onto the front steps.

“Dipper,” she says, quietly, “please stay.”

He does -- with a grudging, rebellious glint in his eyes.

There's blood on his shoes, and smeared across the pine tree on his hat. Mabel doesn't want to ask if it's his or not. She doesn't think she could handle knowing.

They stay, sitting on the front steps of their own house for what feels like hours. _Gravity Falls is safe_ , Mabel tells herself, tells the prickling of her freckled skin. _Our Grunkles. And Wendy. And Soos. And Candy and Grenda. They're all safe._

She hugs her shoulders and wonders why it feels so cold if the realization is true. It isn't the chill of the beginning of autumn.

They survived, didn't they? So she shouldn't be quaking, even now, the sound of her high-tops clicking together resonating.

It's only when the streetlights come on that she stops thinking about it. And she only stops thinking about it because the door bursts open again, their mother in the doorway. Footsteps tremor behind her, and a sigh falls from her lips.

“Come in,” she says, grinding her teeth together. “I think you kids have a lot of explaining to do.”

  


*

  


They explain. Mabel does most of the talking -- once she opens her mouth, she can't seem to stop the flow of words. It feels like the old times, her spinning a tale the way only Mabel Pines can, and Dipper with his face hidden in shadow.

But he adds a few words, his tone uneven and high. Mabel appreciates he's even trying.

Their parents -- well -- don't take everything well.

And yet, the next summer, Mabel and Dipper find themselves back in Gravity Falls. But it's not until three summers after that that Pacifica is back, too.

  


*

  


Apparently, the Northwests have a _l_ _ovely_ vacation home somewhere in Canada, according to Stan. Mabel is only half-listening when she sees Pacifica in town and Stan, looking over from the driver's seat of his broken-down car, starts telling her about it.

Dipper's off studying god knows what in the attic back at the Shack. Mabel finds her gaze caught by Pacifica, the way she laughs. The way there's sincere happiness in her eyes.

“She looks different,” she says.

Stan looks at her, waves a hand. “She's the only one who came back, with a black eye and a broken arm. I think something went down between her and her parents.” He whistles. “Do you think I could steal something from one of these shops?”

They're surrounded by jewelry displays, much more expensive than any of them could afford ever. Mabel laughs; says, pointing, “There's a security guard guarding that one. But most of the other ones look like they're fair game.”

Stan bellows with laughter. “I knew there was a reason you were my favorite, kid.”

  


*

  


“Mabel Pines,” comes the recognizable drawl of Pacifica Northwest. A bit of her slur is gone, and she doesn't sound disgusted with seeing Mabel. The hairs on the back of Mabel's neck stand up, anyways. “Who'd've thought you'd be back in town so soon.”

“I've been coming back every year.” Mabel drops the four-hundred dollar scarf she's been smelling, rubbing against her cheek. Pacifica doesn't miss this, eyes following it, but Mabel just braces herself. “Pacifica -- what do you want?”

Pacifica takes a breath. “I wanted to apologize, actually,” she says.

_She looks different_ , Mabel had said. And, it seems, she has a new attitude, too. Even so, Mabel rubs her arms.

“Okay,” she says. Just _okay_. No groveling, no begging for Pacifica to autograph her face, no teary declarations that she should be the one apologizing instead.

Maybe Pacifica has changed, but so has Mabel.

“I -- ” Pacifica stops. She closes her eyes, breathes in and out, and then looks Mabel straight in the eyes. “I was... rude. I was a terrible person to you and your brother, and -- I shouldn't have been. There was no reason for me to act that way.” She laughs, a little self-deprecatory.

It seems Pacifica Northwest, New and Improved, is full of surprises.

“I was a bit jealous,” Pacifica admits. Mabel blinks at her. “That you could -- I don't know. Present yourself so well, act like you didn't care what everyone else thought. That there was no one breathing down your neck telling you how to act, how to dress, how to talk, how to treat other people.”

Mabel stares at her. “Who are you and what have you done with Pacifica Northwest?” she teases, hoping it'll come off the right way. She doesn't think she's quite ready to forgive Pacifica yet.

Pacifica seems to get that, laughing. An actual, genuine laugh, not the way she used to -- fake, high-pitched, perfect for her attitude. Mabel isn't sure what to think of her like this.

She might like this new Pacifica, she thinks.

“I _am_ Pacifica,” she says. “The real Pacifica, that no one's ever seen.” She smiles at Mabel. “And I'm starting by making it right with everyone I hurt.”

Mabel's breath catches in her throat. “Well, you're getting a good start at that,” she offers.

“I hope so,” Pacifica tells her. Then she turns and walks away.

  


*

  


“Pacifica Northwest is at the door,” Dipper calls into the living room. “She wants to see you, Mabel.”

Stan chokes, on whatever fizzy drink he's chugging. He turns with wide eyes to Mabel. “You're _friends_ with her now?”

“I think she's changed.” Mabel shrugs. “She's actually -- I don't know, nice, now. And no,” she adds, “we're not friends. Yet, I don't think.”

Pacifica is indeed at the door, wearing -- wow -- gray sweatpants and a plain white T-shirt. The handbag at her side, and the brilliant pearl earrings she wears, are the only things that aren't ordinary about her.

“Hi,” she says.

“Hi,” Mabel returns, awkward. “Is there a specific reason you came to see me, or -- ”

Pacifica draws from the bag a scarf. Mabel stares at it -- it's the same scarf she'd been shoving into her face when they'd seen each other in the store. When Pacifica had apologized.

“I got this for you.”

“You got me... a scarf.” Mabel has a little trouble processing this. “If this is your way of 'making things right' -- ”

“I got a book for Dipper, too,” Pacifica tells her, matter-of-fact. Mabel -- okay -- is impressed. “I saw you liked this scarf the other day, and... I had the money, so why not?” She shrugs. “I -- do you not like it?”

“I love it.” Mabel realizes it's still offered out to her, and takes it, fingers curling around the pink silk. It twines around her hands, impossibly soft. “But -- you didn't have to do that, you know.”

“I'd buy the entire town something if I could,” Pacifica says. She leans against the doorframe. “I'm sorry. I know I've already said it, but -- I mean it.”

“Do you want to... come in?” It's halfway out of Mabel's mouth before she can stop herself. Pacifica's eyebrows shoot upwards, but Mabel can hardly take it back now, can she?

“I'd love that,” Pacifica breathes. She sounds both shocked and pleased, and Mabel's heart skips without her permission.

She recognizes the feeling that flows in her when Pacifica steps in and she closes the door behind her. She doesn't want to admit it, even to herself, because there is no way in hell she's falling for _Pacifica Northwest_.

  


*

  


“Oh, no,” she wails that night.

Dipper sits up from the desk he'd fallen asleep at, knocking his head on part of the roof. “What?” he asks, panicked. “Is something going on? Are you okay?”

Mabel considers slamming her head into the wall. She decides that wouldn't help anything.

“I think,” she says, “I'm in love with Pacifica.”

“Mabel, love doesn't work like that.” He just sounds pissed at her for waking him up. Mabel crosses her arms and glares. “You have a crush. That's all.”

“I've _had_ crushes,” Mabel points out. How many? Yeah, she couldn't tell anyone that because she doesn't know. Maybe Dipper does know that. “This feels different.”

Dipper rolls his eyes, getting his _science!!_ face on. He opens his mouth.

“On second thought,” she adds hastily, “it's just a crush. Goodnight, Dipper!”

She thinks she hears a snort before she manages to fall back asleep.

  


*

  


“What do you do when you think you're in love with someone?” she hears herself ask Stan. He falters, coffee falling back to the table and a few drops sloshing out of the mug.

“I'd think you'd know that, kid,” he says, hesitating. “You've fallen in love before, haven't you?”

Mabel takes a breath. “No,” she admits. “I thought I was in love a few times, but -- Grunkle Stan, I was _twelve_ the first summer we came here.” She chews her lip. “And I know you were married once....”

“Dipper told you.” It isn't a question -- if it was, Mabel doesn't think she'd deny it. It's true, anyways. “I don't think there was really any love with Marilyn, but I was in love before her. Carla.” A dreamy smile lights his face. “We dated for... almost twenty years, I think. Then she fell for a stuck-up -- ”

Mabel clears her throat.

“Anyways.” Stan waves a hand, going for nonchalant, but the blush (unnoticed even to himself, it seems) says anything but. “I loved her. I loved her so much.”

“How did you _know_ , though?” Inability to act indifferent, Mabel supposes, runs in the family. Maybe years ago, before her life became a literal hell, she would've laughed it off. Made fun of him for being sappy.

Now, she's Mabel damn Pines. She's not a hopelessly idealistic twelve year old, hoping for an endless summer. What would that help, anyways, since it just ended up in her falling?

“Shit.” Stan looks taken aback at himself as soon as he says it. “I mean -- ”

“It's fine.”

Stan's changed too, she guesses. All of them have -- Ford, who'd packed up his things and gone off the grid after the world's end. Wendy, who'd been quieter and more reserved before her father decided to ship her off to a lumberjack camp. Soos, who'd moved to Portland to be with his girlfriend.

Dipper, who -- Mabel can't really say what's happened to Dipper.

“Well,” Stan says, “I guess it was just... when we were apart, I always wanted to be with her. I'd never really understood love -- my parents sure didn't marry for it.” He shakes his head. “But Carla made me feel things I never had before.”

Mabel looks to her breakfast, the untouched bacon that's starting to go cold.

“Love's different for everyone, I think.” Stan stands, making Mabel start, and yawns. “That's enough mushy shit for today, I'd say.” He points to Mabel's plate. “Eat, kid. You'll need it.”

She eats, but not before asking, “Hey Stan, does food taste better when you're in love?”

He whacks her on the head, lightly, with a rolled-up newspaper for that.

  


*

  


“You're wearing the scarf.”

Mabel turns halfway through the sentence, bracing herself against the dented hood of Stan's car. It looks odd next to Pacifica's glinting pink limo, with a chauffeur in the front seat. She pats the scarf -- she hadn't even realized she was wearing it.

“Yeah.” She shrugs. “It's pretty.”

“It looks nice on you,” Pacifica tells her.

_That_ smile _looks nice on_ you, Mabel wants to say. She's pretty sure she's blushing, and rubs her cheeks, ducking her head. Pacifica clears her throat -- she's blushing too, and Mabel tries (failing) not to read too much into that.

“I made reservations for dinner with a family friend,” she says, “but he canceled on me. The dinner is tonight, so the restaurant will be upset if I cancel the reservation.” She meets Mabel's gaze, looking nervous. “Do you want to go with me?”

“Do I have to wear a fancy dress?” Mabel is -- deflecting, so she doesn't have to answer yet. A beat, then: “Because I would _love_ that --”

A giggle escapes Pacifica. “Mabel.”

“Yes.” It's out of her mouth before she can stop it.

“I'll see you at six, then,” Pacifica says. She looks relieved.

“I guess you will.”

  


*

  


“Oh god, what am I going to wear?”

“Just wear one of your sweaters,” Dipper says calmly. He's laying on his stomach across his bed, flipping through one of his own journals. “Don't you have a pretty one that's all -- covered in sequins and glitter?”

“Sequins,” Mabel says, with an offended air. “If it was glitter -- ” She musses up her hair, already sticking out in large curls. “No, you know, I'm just going to wear that and a nice skirt. Who cares if people look at me weird for not wearing a floor-length evening gown.”

Dipper gives her a flippant thumbs-up.

“At least that wasn't another finger,” Mabel mutters as she digs through her closet for a pencil skirt.

She doesn't look to see if he _does_ flip her off.

  


*

  


Pacifica comes to pick her up, which is good, considering Mabel's pretty sure they wouldn't let her into the parking lot if she drove Stan's car out. She's never ridden in a limo before, and looks around, amazed. The partition is up, the interior shiny and pink. Mabel's a little terrified to touch anything.

“This is yours?”

Pacifica laughs. “Well, my parents had three, so I hotwired this one.” When Mabel turns to her, impressed, she grins. “What? I looked it up online.”

“You really aren't the Pacifica Northwest I met when I was twelve.” Mabel plucks at the strings in the sleeve of her sweater, eyeing Pacifica's cut-off shorts and leather jacket. It seems she didn't have anything to worry about with clothes, after all.

“Hey.” Pacifica reaches over, lays her hand on her shoulder. “You don't have anything to worry about.” She smiles, and Mabel is still shocked by the transforming she's done over the years. “You look amazing.”

“You, too,” Mabel says.

  


*

  


Mabel doesn't look at the price tags on the menu. She catches one in passing, while flipping the page, and doesn't think she's ever seen that many zeroes in her life. She almost asks Pacifica if it's really okay that she's paying, but she's looking over out the window, and so she bites her lip and doesn't bring it up.

They're situated in a room overlooking the lake. Mabel doesn't know when the restaurant was constructed. She sure hasn't seen it, though Pacifica seems friendly with their waitress, a tall woman with a French accent.

Their food arrives, the waitress (her nametag says _Apolline_ ) bowing to them before she scurries off. There's no one else in the room, classical music drifting in from another reserved spot.

“Was there an actual family friend?” Mabel asks after a long moment. She's had her doubts since Pacifica first approached her about it earlier.

Pacifica blinks at her, then wipes her mouth, swallowing whatever bit of steak she's picked up. “No,” she says, looking a bit embarrassed. “I didn't know any other way to ask you out to dinner, though.”

“You could've just said, 'Hey Mabel, want to go to dinner with me?',” Mabel suggests. She grins. “I would've said yes to that. Or, you could've brought me a bunch of flowers -- ”

“Okay,” Pacifica cuts in. She shakes her head, not meeting Mabel's eyes. “I get it. I still wasn't sure if you'd say yes, though, so....”

“It's fine.” Mabel takes another gulp of her soup. “Good food, anyways.”

“It's the best,” Pacifica agrees.

  


*

  


The summer air is brisk around them as they walk out, Mabel groaning about how full she is and Pacifica laughing that she shouldn't have eaten so much. The water glistens below them, Pacifica leading Mabel out onto the dock instead of to the car. That, Mabel guesses, could be because the limo isn't back yet.

“The waterfall's beautiful,” Pacifica says, breathy.

Mabel nods. “You know,” she says, memories stirring, “I released a mermaid here once.”

Pacifica raises an eyebrow at her. “A mermaid?”

“Well, a mer _man_ , really,” Mabel corrects. “His name was Mermando, and he had the prettiest hair.” She pats her own. “Thick and curly and longer than mine.”

Pacifica snorts. “He sounds lovely.”

“Oh, he was.” Mabel tries not to look at her, the sunset sparkling in her eyes; she's afraid it'll make her do something she's not sure if Pacifica would object to. She looks at her feet instead, at her light-up rainbow sneakers. “Until he had to get married to the manatee queen.”

“If this wasn't Gravity Falls, I don't think I'd believe you.” Pacifica spreads her arms. “But it _is_ Gravity Falls, and some _weird_ things happen here, so....”

“Welcome to Gravity Falls,” Mabel deadpans, “where your life is going to get screwed up.”

Then, she looks at Pacifica, who's stifling laughter in her palm. The fading sunlight shines against her hair, light wind ruffling a few strands out of place. Her eyes are brighter, Mabel thinks, than anything she's ever seen before.

They lean forwards at the same time, noses knocking together instead of lips. Pacifica laughs and draws away, embarrassed -- Mabel pulls her by the cuff of her jacket and kisses her cheek.

“Claude's back,” Pacifica points out, pulling back. She considers Mabel for a moment, then kisses her on the cheek --

“Do I have lipstick on my face?” Mabel shouts after her as she heads back up onto the sidewalk in front of the restaurant. “Hey! Pacifica!”

Pacifica doesn't answer, but Mabel can't seem to stop the wide, painful smile across her face, anyways.

**Author's Note:**

> hmu on [tumblr](http://wltchlight.tumblr.com/)


End file.
